


The Widow Maker

by Arithanas



Category: Addams Family (TV 1964)
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship, Relationship Goals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:03:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9024481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: It your kid wants to meet the Widow Maker you can't really refuse, can you?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Llwyden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llwyden/gifts).



The Addamses admired the beast’s hulking splendor and its unbridled power. As the rollercoaster passed, they could hear mechanical clicks, creaking metal and shaking beams. The powerful gust of wind that trailed its pass shook its bystanders and prompted a big, sorrowful grin.

Morticia reached for Gomez’s hand. She was ecstatic, elated and awed by the power of the infernal machine. Her eyes widened and her gaze followed the colorful wagons full of passengers with admiration as its riders were shaken inside their flimsy vehicle at risk of being thrown out.

Gomez put a fresh cigar between his lips and closed his eyes. His expression was grateful when the renewed choir of terrified children sent a new chill down his spine. The concrete floor vibrated under his feet in constant waves. For a moment, the idea of being swallowed by the unstable earth crossed his mind and made him hoot a short, dry laugh. Gomez liked the idea of crossing that item off of his bucket list.

A new loop renewed the terrified yells and Morticia leaned her weight against Gomez. The impulse was irresistible and Gomez passed Morticia's hand from his right to his left, so that he could cup his right hand over her well-turned shoulder and hold her close.

With a happy sigh, Morticia rested her head on Gomez’s chest and he could felt how her body rocked in delights at the sound of the horror, the voices of little humans who believed they could brave the unexplainable and untamable that governed this world and not pay the consequences of their recklessness.

Belatedly, Gomez recognized his idiocy. He had failed to perfectly spoil the loveliest vulture of his cemetery. He could have brought a phonograph recorder to immortalize that sound, and replayed it in the dead of the night.  His sudden stillness alerted Morticia and she noticed the glint of his eye was a clear sign of mischief.

“What are you thinking about, Gomez?” Her voice was soft but there was a vague hint of censure.

“About the sound of children screaming in terror,” Gomez said, took his cigar from his mouth, and bent his head to utter the next words directly into Morticia’s ear. “Their voices drowning us, as we lay in bed. One next to the other, so close that we could feel our hearts pounding…”

Morticia gave him a taut smile and slapped his chest in a playful manner. Gomez bit his cigar and smiled proudly because he knew his meaning came across clearly. It was always good to know their hearts —and other body parts― were in the same place after so many years.

The wagon passed by their side again, Morticia hugged Gomez tightly, but noticed the screams had stopped and was replaced by laughter and their cries were filled with elation. They both rushed to the station with apprehension in their spirits.  

“Oh, Gomez!” Morticia took a lock of her dark hair from her frightful face.  “What went wrong?”

Gomez climbed the fence without sparing a gaze to that image of grieving his wife was: “I’m not sure! There’s too many people here!”

Morticia looked the way people went by the fence with laughter and excitement. The world was a crazy place, if people had rushed to their doom and come out of it happy. Gomez was counting head with his fingers and the gesture in his face soured as time passed.

“Gomez!” Morticia called, disregarding the curious looks of the passerby crowd. Her heart was beating too hard inside her chest.  

“This is wrong! A disaster! How can it be possible?” Gomez shook his cigar. “As many people got off as went in! Not one casualty!”

“ _ On ne pleure pas devant les chiffres, _ ” Morticia commented with philosophical attitude and her hand almost in her throat. “Can you see her?”

“Don’t worry,  _ querida _ ,” Gomez said. “I can see our little package of gloominess in the first seat, where we left her!”

“Oh,” Morticia exclaimed and began to walk against the dwindling crowd to reach her daughter. “The poor thing will be so disappointed.”

“She was expecting too much…” Gomez observed, but he was as heartbroken as his child might be.

“We taught Wednesday that this world was her torture chamber. We couldn’t help but giving her high hopes.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Morticia.” Gomez said with conviction. “We are Addamses. We don’t settle for less than excellence.”

A bored teenager awkwardly trying to bar them at the cordon, but only half-heartedly. There was nothing in his bovine expression that could stop Gomez and Morticia, he tried to stop them in earnest.

“Some people, on the other hand…” Gomez said, tipping his hat to the attendant.

“Mommy!” Wednesday cried and extended her arms.

“Oh, my child, please don’t be upset!” Morticia begged as she knelt by the wagon.

“Nobody fell off the ride!”

“Oh, dear…” Morticia hugged her baby. “Sometimes we can’t get all we want.”

“I thought someone was dying,” Wednesday sobbed her distress in her mother’s dark bossom. “People were yelling so loudly.”

“They did, didn’t they?”

Morticia regaled her husband a look that implied murder and Gomez bent his knees and put his hands on his knees.

“I’m sorry, Wednesday,” Gomez said with a more parental tone. “This was false publicity! An outrage! One can’t advertise something called ‘The Widow Maker’ and not let anyone die.”

Morticia offered her hand as reward to her husband and he hold it, but their eyes were glued to their child.

“I thought so… People didn’t want to ride it…”

“ _ Qui vit sans folie n'est pas si sage qu'il croit _ ,” Morticia said and caressed her daughter’s hair in maternal consolation.

“Morticia! Have mercy on this poor man!” Gomez begged and kissed his wife’s hand with devotion.

“Save it for home, _ bubbeleh _ …” Morticia chided and retrieved her hand.  

“Can we go home?” Wednesday asked with a calmer voice.

“We’ll be there soon,” Morticia promised and they both climbed down from the wagon.

They walked hand in hand in protest. The lights of the rides and booth of the carnival drew a sharp contrast with their dark elegance. They walked with hanging serenity among the booths with their colorful foods and toys. This might be the last time the Addamses went to visit the country fair.

Lurch was waiting for the family next to the dark hearse, but the walk back there seemed as barren and hopeless as an endless desert.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for being an awesome person!
> 
> May the holidays will be good to you!


End file.
